To Break Up with Mycroft
by Nothing-but-PBandJ
Summary: ...is impossible. As Lestrade will find out. Good thing Lestrade doesn't actually want to break up anyway. Mystrade.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own own BBC Sherlock, cannon!Sherlock Holmes, Robert Downey Junior version of Sherlock Holmes, or any other thing remotely close to any of these.

Summary: Just because I think Mystrade needs more love. Lestrade is happy with his relationship with Mycroft. When he tries to call it off, he finds it impossible.

A/N: I'm American, where we are comfortable eating chicken nuggets even though we have no idea exactly what parts of the chicken are in it, yet we find some of the meats British people eat quite odd. So what I'm trying to say is, I may make a few errors in British culture or dialect as this story progresses. If so then I will be all too glad if you can point it out and I will try to fix it promptly without changing the story itself.

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><p>For DI Lestrade, being together with Mycroft has been some of the happiest months in his life. Before they became close (like, really close) Lestrade would go for days without socializing with anyone who wasn't a part of work. He didn't even own a pet. But he never thought that he was lonely. Okay well, maybe he did. But he always brushed it off with a tall glass of liquor and a large tub of ice cream while he sat on the couch watching soap operas in another language. Then one day Mycroft asked him out to dinner- just out of the blue- and Lestrade jumped at the chance to make a non-work related friend. Little did he know that Mycroft was interested in something a bit more than friendship.<p>

Not that he was complaining. Their dates were always fun and lively. Sometimes they would go to some expensive restaurant, Mycroft would have to 'dress' Lestrade in a suitable suit that the elder Holmes insisted on purchasing for him. He bought several for him but Lestrade's favorite was the dark-blue, almost black tux with gold cufflinks. Other times they would go out for a drive in the limousine while they chatted about themselves and drank wine. Occasionally, Lestrade would get to go to Mycroft's house, or say, his mansion. There Lestrade got to plant butterfly kisses (his favorite kind of kisses) along Mycroft's jaw-line while the two sat together on a soft, feathered couch with the flat screen television on just for the sake of them having background noise. Lestrade would then travel until he was kissing at Mycroft's neck. Mycroft would never have a more blissful expression on his face than when Lestrade was showing him just how much he was adored and loved. Lestrade knew how Mycroft was usually the one who expressed love and concern for others (mainly him and Sherlock) so Mycroft rarely got to have such treatment focused in on him.

Yes, these past few months have been paradise for Lestrade. But there always comes a time when good things come to an end. It made sense. Mycroft's job was just too important (whatever the hell it was that he did. He kept it a secret from everyone) and soon Lestrade was seeing Mycroft less and less. And then on the very few occasions where Mycroft would have free time, he would be too tired to even talk to Lestrade. He'd just go on to bed and sleep soundly until work called for him again. Lestrade should have known that it just wasn't possible for Mycroft to spend as much time with him as they both wanted. Eventually things have made a turn for the worst.

After two months (which were not part of the happiest months) Lestrade didn't see Mycroft at all. He waited every single day for him to call or text or _something_. Then finally it hit Lestrade like a ton of bricks.

Mycroft does not have the time or energy for him. His work was just too important to him. Not that Lestrade thought Mycroft didn't care for him. No, Mycroft was too loving a person for that. But he deserved someone better. Because let's face it. What has Lestrade been given since this relationship started? Oh, just thousands of dollars worth of suits, gourmet meals and fifty year old fine wine. And what does Mycroft get out of the deal? Butterfly kisses. Yeah. That was all Lestrade could give him. And Mycroft could get that from any other future boyfriend who has lips.

So Lestrade decided that breaking up with Mycroft Holmes was going to be the hardest thing he'd ever done. He was going to do it for Mycroft's sake. Even though he really wanted to do it in person, Lestrade felt that if he didn't call it off soon, he would change his mind. So he sent a rather long e-mail to Mycroft, explaining that he thought it was for the best that they just remain long-distance friends. It deeply pained Lestrade to write it. He may have had a single tear in his eye (but it was a manly tear!) when he clicked on the send button. Afterwards, he just sat by his computer, continuously refreshing his page to see if Mycroft would respond quickly. He didn't even realize two hours have came and went until he glanced up at the clock. A sudden calm (or shall we say, despair) washed over him and he yawned. Well it looked like that was the end of that. But why did his heart feel like it was on fire? Not the kind of fiery passion kind of fire one felt when they were in love but a fire that was determined to leave nothing but an empty hole when it finished burning.

Lestrade felt a few more manly tears threatening to spill. And the worst part about all this was that he didn't bother to get a tub of ice cream or liquor, and he didn't want to go to the store feeling sorry for himself. There was nothing left to do but go to bed. He forced himself out of the chair even though a part of him still wanted to click the refresh button on his computer. Maybe just once more. Click. Okay still no response. Time to sleep. As he sank into his covers that night, his last thought was how in time things will get better after their break-up for the both of them.

Little did he know that Mycroft had already decided there wasn't going to be a break-up, as the elder Holmes sat next to his own computer and reread the e-mail for the tenth time with a concern frown across his lips.


	2. Chapter 2

The moment Lestrade opened his eyes he shot out of bed and rushed towards the computer. Surely Mycroft must have said something by now. Lestrade just hoped he wasn't going to read anything hinting there were hard feelings from the other man. Standing over his computer, he logged on.

No messages. Not even the occasional ad for weight control pills that for some reason does not make it directly into his spam folder. Lestrade didn't know what to feel right now. Relief that he didn't have to read an angry e-mail just yet? Anger that Mycroft still wasn't getting in touch with him? Or sadness?

He voted for the last one. He was so sad he was hearing things. He could hear 'I Will Survive' sung by Gloria Gaynor. Then he realized that that was his ringtone on his cell. His head turned to the phone on the table right by his computer and he nearly fell back in his...stance...

"Mycroft?" he answered .5 seconds after he realized who was calling.

"Ah! Hello Gregory. I didn't wake you, did I? I'm sorry I haven't been keeping in touch, I want to make it up to you. I see you're free today. Would you like to meet at my place and we can watch that movie you've been wanting to see? We can watch it while we have ourselves a bite to eat. What do you say?"

Lestrade blinked once. What _did_ he say to that? He was struck speechless and for a few long seconds he did nothing but stand in silence with his mouth hanging open.

Maybe he could ask Mycroft if he read his e-mail? And if not, then he would have to break up with him over the phone. That sounded like a good plan. Right then, now to say something before Mycroft assumed he had fallen dead on the floor.

"Um...what movie are you talking about?"

That was what came out of his mouth for reasons beyond Lestrade. He had the whole 'break up' speech preparing in his head yet he asked about the movie. Why did he...?

God, it was so good to hear Mycroft's voice again!

"Well, that movie about the hat who falls in love with the shoe, of course. You always did have the most...fascinating tastes in cinema, Gregory."

"Wait. Are you talking about the movie that isn't even out in theaters yet?"

"That's correct. What time do you want to be picked up? There should be scotch in the car but please don't drink too much before getting here. You know you get silly and affectionate when you're drunk and I want to wait until later to cuddle."

Mycroft? And food? And scotch? And movies? And cuddling? And Mycroft saying the word cuddle? Was this a beautiful dream? Lestrade's heart swelled up with hope. However the hope paused before it got too high, then dropped. No, it couldn't be like this. He made up his mind last night.

"Mycroft, listen. I sent you an e-mail yesterday..." he trailed off.

A curious 'oh?' came from the other line. Lestrade was about to will himself to go on but then Mycroft spoke up.

"I'm sorry, Gregory. I haven't had time to look at it. But I'll read it tonight," he said it like a promise, "For now I just want to spend some time with you. The car should be there in half an hour. I can't wait to catch up with you. You have no idea how much I've missed you."

Click. Just like that Mycroft had hung up without giving Lestrade another chance to speak. The DI was stunned by the turn of events. Why had he agreed to spend time with Mycroft after he convinced himself that breaking up was for the best? Granted, he didn't really agree directly...

Wait a minute! He didn't agree indirectly either! Mycroft made the decision for him! Dammit, he hated it when the man did that!

His finger aimed at the redial button before a thought stopped him. He had wanted to break up in person and now Mycroft has given him the perfect opportunity. It was just what they both needed. Lestrade can spend one last, final, sweet, heartbreaking moment with his lover before goodbye. His heart throbbed in pain. Goodbye. What was good about it? More like badbye.

Badbye. That's a new word! He was so claiming that as his own. Let it be known from this day forward that badbye was invented and copyrighted by Greg Lestrade!

Er-hem...moving along...

Half an hour later, Lestrade was dressed and polished for the day. Hair combed? Check. Teeth brushed? Check. Clothes he had _not _worn the day before (Mycroft always hated that). Check.

While Lestrade was still going through his mental checklist the expected knock tapped on his door. He made sure he had his good luck paperclip in his pocket before opening the door. He had expected to see one of Mycroft's drivers to come and make sure he didn't lose his way to getting to the car. Imagine his surprise when he saw someone else...

"Mycroft?"

The well kept man with his umbrella smiled in greeting. Lestrade could not believe his eyes. Mycroft hardly ever changed his own plans without reason. And he had never been inside Lestrade's house...

Shoot! Lestrade didn't clean the place up! Dammit, Mycroft was going to chew him out for living like a pig-

His thoughts were cut off by warm lips on his mouth and a gentle hand on the back of his head. Lestrade instinctively melted into the kiss as Mycroft pushed him inside. Mycroft withdrew to shut the door behind him, then he turned to look at Lestrade with inviting eyes.

"Gregory. I cannot tell you how good it is to see you after all this time."

Focus. Lestrade had to stay focus.

"Mycroft I-"

"You look quite handsome in that shirt. But might I say you'd probably look better with it off."

Woah! Someone was getting feisty a little early in the game, Lestrade thought.

No. There couldn't be a game. There couldn't be anything else between them. He had to stay focus or else-

"Mycroft-"

"Would you like to have brunch? Afterward we can watch that movie and then go bathe in my private hot springs-"

"Mycroft! It's over! We're breaking up!"


	3. Chapter 3

There. He had said it. Lestrade was now staring fearfully at Mycroft, waiting for the other man's reaction. Mycroft did not move, did not speak, did not even look like he had heard him. But he had, Lestrade knew that for a fact.

Mycroft peered down at the floor and sighed softly to himself. A few seconds passed before Mycroft hesitantly stared back up at the DI.

"I see I must've kept you waiting far too long. I'm sorry. But must we resort to such drastic measures so soon?"

Oh God, Lestrade thought. Mycroft was doing that annoying thing again! That let's-be-reasonable-and-understanding annoying thing!

"It's not that, Mycroft. It's just that I think this is for the best."

"And why is that?" Mycroft arched an eyebrow.

Lestrade gulped. Now he had to explain why. And it was so hard to think of a clear, solid, and in-depth answer that would satisfy the man. This was why he hated getting into logical discussions.

"Um...'cause?"

"...Because...why?" Mycroft pressed.

"Because," Lestrade began again, "Because...I think that we would be...happier...with other...people, is all that I'm saying."

"And this decision of yours has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I have been gone for two months?"

The air was tense after that. Lestrade could practically feel it electrifying in the atmosphere around them. He could tell, after knowing the man for some time, that beneath Mycroft's calm exterior was something far more alert and calculating. Lestrade could see those soft eyes becoming hard, like an avocado.

No wait a minute. That's the other way around, isn't it? Or...wait...he was having a brain fart here...Did avocados start out soft and become hard over time? Or did they start out hard and become soft? Which was it?

Mycroft suddenly chuckled, causing Lestrade to snap out of his thoughts.

"Come now, Gregory. I know what this is really about. You're upset with me for not getting into contact with you. Why don't I make it up to you? We can watch that movie and just spend some time together. Then, I can imagine you changing your mind."

And here Mycroft gave Lestrade his award-winning smile. The smile that would always make Lestrade melt and his knees weak. Maybe he was being a bit too rash. Maybe this whole breaking-up idea was absurd. He really did want to just kiss those smiling lips senseless. Spend some time with Mycroft, after two long, lonely, quiet, heartbreaking months...

Oh! Mycroft almost had him there. Lestrade felt his earlier resolve coming back to life. Mycroft's smile slowly faded as he saw how Lestrade's demeanor told him that his words had no effect.

"I'm sorry Mycroft but we have to split up," his words choked out of his throat. Were his eyes warming up and getting moister in them? "I'm sorry but we can't go on like this. You don't need me. And I'm not going to let you waste anymore of your time and money on me."

Lestrade was not expecting the glare that came from Mycroft. In all the months he had dated the man he had never once seen him angry. The closest thing was mildly agitated. And that was extremely mild. More mild than Lestrade's grandmother's salsa that had almost no flavor.

"So this is what this is about. You don't really want to break up. If you did then I _may_ have respected your wish for us to split up. But now let me say this, Gregory. I'm giving you a chance to end this foolish idea now, kiss me on the lips and then let me take you out to eat with me," his voice was hard like...an...

Avocado? Should he use that same simile twice? Dang it! Did an avocado become hard or soft overtime? This question was going to keep him up all night long until he found an answer.

"And if I say no?" Lestrade just had to ask.

Mycroft smiled again but it wasn't the award-winning, knee weakening smile that Lestrade had seen only seconds ago. It was a dangerous smile. And it was oddly sexy.

Focus Greg. Focus!

"If you say no Gregory, then I will be forced to end this ridiculous idea myself."

"What's so ridiculous about it?" Now Lestrade was real confused.

Mycroft swung his favorite umbrella over his shoulder with his chin held high.

"It's silly of you to think that you can break up with me if I don't allow it. In fact, it's impossible to do so. So I must insist you make this easy on yourself. A movie, brunch and drink sound far more appealing than me having to put some sense in you, don't you agree?"

Oh no he didn't! Mycroft did _not_ just imply that breaking up was not an option. Lestrade did too have options! And not even a rich git like Mycroft Holmes could tell him otherwise.

"Get out of my house."

There was a gleam in Mycroft's eye after Lestrade had said that.

"Very well. I can see you've made up your mind. I just ask that you won't be too upset over my...methods of persuasion. I'd like us to kiss and make up sooner rather than later. Goodbye for now, my silly, sweet Gregory."

Lestrade watched the other man leave his home. Even after Mycroft was gone, Lestrade still stood at the exact same spot for several minutes. He was struck dumb by Mycroft's words. What did the man have in store for him?

He shook it off. No. No matter what Mycroft did, it wouldn't matter. Lestrade wouldn't give in. He was determined.

Why did he have a very bad feeling about this? Should he even leave his house today?


	4. Chapter 4

I would give you a good and well thought-out excuse as to why this update is so late. But I'll be honest. I have none. But don't worry, I'm trying to improve on my self-motivation! Time to hit the For Dummies books.

x

There was only one option. Stay inside, lock the doors and don't even look out the window. The plan was perfect for Lestrade. Provided, of course, that he had enough food to stay in the house long enough to make Mycroft forget about him.

His stomach twisted in a knot but he ignored it. Lestrade looked around his house, ashamed that Mycroft saw it. There were empty beverage cans scattered on any table that Lestrade could find with space. Socks he had not bothered to put in the laundry basket were lying on the floor. His clock on the wall was collecting a substantial amount of dust. It was grey now but Lestrade was sure it was a pure black color when he bought it.

Now that he observed his house like this more closely, Lestrade almost didn't want to spend the entire day here. But he knew that when Mycroft wanted something, he would do whatever it took to get it. The only one more stubborn than him was his brother, a fact that Lestrade only knew too well.

His stomach growled this time and Lestrade placed his hand on it. He was a little hungry. Time to go to the fridge! His feet strode towards the kitchen and he opened up the fridge door wide...

And closed it immediately. The stench made it very clear that Lestrade had neglected to clean out his fridge for a while. And he could've sworn he saw something move in there. He shivered at the though. Maybe there was a way to lock the fridge. He suddenly didn't feel very safe in this house anymore.

A knock tapped at his front door and he went into 'OMG' mode. Was it Mycroft? What was he going to do? Lestrade stood very still, staring wide-eyed as the knockings became louder and more insistent.

"Mr. Lestrade? Are you in there?"

It was a man's voice but not Mycroft's. Lestrade released a breath he had been holding, letting his lungs drink in the sweet air.

Was he feeling a bit disappointed for some reason? No, that couldn't be it. He was just starting to get sick after smelling inside the fridge. Yes, that must be it!

"Mr Lestrade?" _Knock. Knock._

The DI made his way over and opened the door. There was a chubby, red-faced man staring back at him with a notebook in his hand. The man, unsmiling, nodded his head at him.

"Alright Mr. Lestrade, everything's all set. You probably should leave now."

Pause. Lestrade stared at the man in silence for so long that the guy faked a cough just to break it.

"Mr. Lestrade. We can't reconstruct your house if you are...you know...in the house. Go...somewhere else please."

"What? Who said anything about reconstructing my..." he didn't have to finish the sentence before the answer appeared in his head.

The red-faced man looked at him curiously. He pulled a piece of paper out of his overly large pocket and showed it to the DI.

"This is your signature, right?"

The penmanship was a perfect copy of Letsrade's, right down to the way he curved his r's. Lestrade couldn't believe that Mycroft would actually sign or get someone to illegally sign someone else's own name and evict Lestrade from his own home, just because they were breaking up.

And by couldn't believe he meant that he could believe it very easily and wondered why he hadn't thought of this as a possibility sooner.

The man faked another cough.

"Alright, now we really have to start working. Good day, Mr. Lestrade."

The man made his impatience very clear when he scooted the DI out of the way. Soon following the example were dozens of workers in those tacky hard helmets. They were carrying saws, hammers, tiles, and a deck of cards for when they were on break.

Soon they were surrounding the place and any hope Lestrade may have had of returning anytime soon vanished. He looked like an abandoned puppy, all alone out in the sidewalk. The sound of a car driving up to him snapped him out of his daze. The driver walked out of the limousine and handed Lestrade an envelope. Lestrade didn't question as he ripped it open.

_Dearest Gregory,_

_The reconstruction won't be done for a few days, I'm afraid. But I must tell you that a few days is very quick for reconstruction, especially for such an **interesting** piece of work as your house. I understand if you don't want to stay with me while you wait, so I have a room set up for you at the inn across from our favorite eating establishment. I have the exact address enclosed with the letter just in case._

_I must ask you to take it easy today. The inn has many aspects to it that will provide you with entertainment. If you could stay there and wait until I'm finished with some errands we can meet this evening and hopefully spend time together like I had originally planned. I must insist now, Gregory, that you do this. It would make things so much easier._

_See you soon_

_With Love_

_Mycroft_

The driver had opened the backdoor for Lestrade, waiting to see what the other man would do. Lestrade inhaled sharply, trying to steady his nerves. Mycroft was really starting to get him worked up. Did he not take Lestrade seriously at all? We'll the man could just fly far away with that umbrella of his for all he cared. You know, like Mary Poppins.

Lestrade angrily stuffed the letter in his pocket and walked away without looking at the driver. The driver nodded and drove away. Lestrade figured he could find a cheap place to spend the night while he quietly fumed over how terrible a person his lover was.

...Um..his ex-lover. Yeah, that's what he meant.


	5. Chapter 5

I've kept on rewriting this chapter but I couldn't find a work I was satisfied with. Eventually, I grew tired so I give you the least crappy version. Still, I'm not quite happy with it. I apologize with fake apology cake.

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><p>The feeling of eyes burning down his back spun Lestrade around. Across the dingy little room and standing by the inn's 'lounge' (which was nothing more than a box-shaped indention on the wooden floor with a single chair) was a striking blonde beauty with full lips and toned but slender chest. The eyes searched for an invitation.<p>

Lestrade felt emptiness inside him. He told himself it was because he was evicted from his house. Stupid, sexy, smart-ass, sexy-ass Mycroft!

The blonde-haired man was still gazing at him with a daring smile. Soon he was standing only a few feet away from the inspector.

"Hey there. Why haven't I seen you around here before?"

Lestrade examined the room. No one else was here. So the guy was talking to him...

"I had to leave my house for a few days."

"Oh, a house!" The blonde man exclaimed, clearly interested. "I like men with houses. Almost as much as I like men in uniform. Do you have a job that requires a uniform?"

Lestrade's lips tightened. He really wasn't in the mood to have a conversation right now but the other man didn't seem to notice.

"Yeah, I'm an inspector," he said sheepishly, "Why do you ask?"

"I'm Alan," the man said.

Alan's gaze traveled down Lestrade's chest. Then to his torso, then waist, then...

"Er-hem! I'm up here!" Lestrade pointed at his own face.

Startled, Alan looked back up and gave a not-so-innocent smile.

"Do you want to have lunch with me? Maybe go out on a date?"

His penetrating stare was starting to make Lestrade feel uncomfortable, not that he was ever comfortable with the stares to begin with.

"No, thank you."

"Some other time?"

"No."

"I see...are you already attach to someone?"

Before Lestrade could respond, Alan continued.

"I bet he's a lucky man. Someone who would be so lonely without you. And would like you to go to the inn he told you to go to. And would like even more to watch that movie with you, even though he thinks the movie's plot-line is a load of bullocks."

Blink. All Lestrade could do was blink. That was oddly specific. Alan motioned for the inspector to wait a moment and he left. When Alan came back, he was holding a present with red wrapping and a gorgeous black bow on top.

"And I bet he would love to give this present to you too. And I bet he's currently frustrated that his brother is still not answering his calls. And I bet he's sorry for leaving you alone for two months. And I bet-" Alan walked off, seemingly talking to himself now.

Lestrade watched him go with a confused frown, the present was now in his hands. It took a moment for the gears in his head to turn but when they finally did, he swore silently. Right. Mycroft paid the guy to say those things.

He looked down at the present and debated whether or not to throw it away. Curiosity getting the better of him, he opened it up.

And nearly fell backwards in surprise. Could it be-? Would Mycroft really go this far? Inside the box...

Doughnut holes. Delicious, mouth-watering doughnut holes! Why would Mycroft do this to him? He went to rehab because of these damn things!

The sweet, buttery scent wafted to his nose and without a second thought he plopped one inside his mouth, savoring the soft sugary dough. He swallowed, then had another. They were gone before he noticed.

They were gone. No! Lestrade licked his fingers for any remaining flavor. Oh god it was already happening. The need for more. More! MORE! He was already shaking from withdrawal.

He rushed to the nearest doughnut shop, which was about eight miles, and bought as much as he could get. Which was fifty dollars worth. Which was all the cash he had on hand. On the day the banks were closed. And the day he left his checks in his house...

He looked inside his empty doughnut box and felt tears welling up. Great. Now he had no where to go. He had no money. He had to spend another six months in rehab. And worst of all, no more doughnut holes.

The familiar black car pulled up beside him while he was crying in front of the doughnut shop. The driver came around and opened the door for him.

"Would you like to come now, sir? It would mean the world to Mr. Holmes."

Lestrade glared at the man. The DI looked like a mess with crumbs on his shirt and all over his hair.

"We broke up. Tell him to get used to it!."

The driver, unfazed, pulled out a cellphone and pressed it up against his ear.

"Hello, boss? He told me to tell you to get used to it. Hm? Oh, to get used to breaking up. Hm? Yeah? Will that really work? Sorry, I didn't mean to question you. Yes yes, I'll retake the blind-faith obedience class again, Mr. Holmes. Sorry again."

The driver sighed and looked up at Lestrade.

"We have doughnut holes."

Lestrade practically flew in the car. Somehow he actually zoomed off the ground with impossible law-breaking physics and dove inside. Doughnut holes. Doughnut holes.

"Hey! There are no doughnut holes here!"

The door shut itself behind him and locked in place. The car began, and they were soon at the inn Mycroft had wanted Lestrade to go to.


	6. Chapter 6

"Are you sure?"

The chauffeur bit the inside of his lip, hard enough to barely scratch the surface and he tasted his own blood.

"Yes. And if you asked me a twenty-third time I'm going to say the same thing. As well as the twenty-forth and fifth. No, Inspector, we do not have any more donut holes."

This was bad. Very very bad. Lestrade felt himself coming down with a fix. If he didn't do something soon, he would explode. Metaphorically, of course. Wouldn't that be weird if he literally blew up because of no donut holes? It would be like something off of South Park. Oh, how Mycroft hated that show. Lestrade always thought he was so cute when he went on a rant about how stupid the killing-Kenny gag was...

Dammit! Daydreaming wasn't working! His mind was still on the sweet savory donut holes!

"There's scotch in the car if you _must_ have something," the driver told him.

Lestrade looked in front of him. A mini bar appeared in front of him. Fancy living, this was. He saw scotch, whiskey and wine. A decent selection. He took out a shot glass that was placed close to the bottles and grabbed some whiskey. He knew the percentage was a little high but he figured just a little bit wouldn't hurt.

**Seven shots later...**

"MR. LESTRADE! PLEASE STOP PETTING MY HAT!"

The driver was carrying a drunk inspector on his shoulder. Lestrade giggled so much that his throat was starting to get sore.

"But it's such a pretty hat. Here pretty hat! Prettyprettypretty!"

Mr. Holmes did not pay him enough for this kind of crap, thought the driver. Fortunately, Lestrade had stopped thinking about donut holes. In fact he stopped thinking altogether. When the driver finally managed to get him to his hotel room, he sent a text to his boss.

Mycroft came half an hour later with a worried expression.

"Gregory. You're drunk already? It's barely noon! I was hoping we could spend the day together, you know. But not like this. How drunk are you?"

"Mikey!" Lestrade giggled when he saw his 'ex' lover and rushed in for a hug.

Mycroft closed his eyes and smelled the Jack Daniels whiskey coming from Lestrade's breath. Based on being called Mikey, Mycroft had a good feeling that Lestrade was practically smashed.

"Hey. Hey. I got a secret. Do you wanna hear the secret?"

"Of course," Mycroft gently guided his lover to the bed and the both sat down. Lestrade still had his arms wrapped around Mycroft, unwilling to let him go.

"I don't really want to break up with you."

Mycroft looked at him with a quirked eyebrow.

"Well I knew that. But while we're on the subject do you mind telling me why you're trying to?"

Lestrade pouted.

"I'm not mad at you," Mycroft assured him.

Lestrade rubbed the back of Mycroft's hair and the elder Holmes felt a wave of pleasure surging through him. He loved it when his Gregory did that.

"Because I waste your time and money."

Mycroft's eyes shot open. They had previously been closed as Mycroft enjoyed the sensation of Lestrade's fingers in his hair. Mycroft pushed Lestrade away, just enough to make good eye contact.

"Don't you ever say that again."

"But I do!" Lestrade insisted. "You give me too much. That's why you were gone so long, right? You don't have time for me! And you spend too much on me, it makes me feel guilty. I don't like feeling guilty. I give you nothing in return!"

"You gave me yourself. Is that not enough?"

Lestrade blushed and looked down.

"I'm not worth that much."

"You say that again and I'm going to buy you an island."

Lestrade's head shot up. Mycroft continued, looking at him firmly in the eye.

"A really expensive island. And another one. And another. Until I have no more money left. I wonder how guilty will you feel then?"

"No!"

"Then," Mycroft gave a soft smile, "Do not say such things again. Do not even think such things. You're not allowed."

"You're too controlling," Lestrade scowled.

"You like me that way. But, if you do want to take control in bed from time to time, then I'm perfectly fine-"

"Mikey!" Lestrade giggled again.

Mycroft stood up and pushed Lestrade gently into lying position. Lestrade felt his eyes getting very heavy. He reached out to grab Mycroft but the alcohol was making his hands shake too much to gain proper control.

"Can you do me a favor, Gregory? Can you go to sleep. I want to talk to you about this when you're sober."

"Why don't you have a pretty hat?"

Mycroft just stood there, blinking.

"That's nice dear. Go to sleep."

x

The lights were off when Lestrade woke up. Something he was extremely grateful for, since he had a splitting headache so intense that the clock's gentle ticking was roaring in his ears. He groaned, sitting himself up.

"Look to your left, Gregory," a soft, familiar voice told him.

Lestrade did as instructed and was ecstatic to find two pills of Tylenol and a tall glass of water. He took the pills in an instant, waiting for his head to stop pounding. He looked down, not wanting to look at Mycroft. He was afraid that if he did, he would want to go back to him.

He couldn't do that.

The two waited in silence for the medicine to work its magic. Seeing Lestrade easing into comfort, Mycroft dared to speak.

"Now. Let's talk, shall we?"

"Mycroft, I really don't want this to be harder than it could be,"

Mycroft was currently sitting cross-legged on a chair adjacent to the bed. Lestrade still couldn't look him in the eye.

"Do you love me?"

"Of course!" Lestrade said sincerely without hesitation. He finally gathered enough courage to gaze at the elder Holmes. "But that's why I want to break up. Because you deserve more than-"

He was silenced when Mycroft shot out of his seat and trudged towards him. Mycroft leaned in so that their faces were only a few inches apart.

"You don't like feeling guilty. You think I spend too much on you."

Lestrade couldn't find his voice so he gave a very slight nod.

"You think that I don't have time for you, which is a mistake on my part."

The detective felt his head leaning in automatically. Now their lips were almost touching, screaming to be united.

When Mycroft spoke, it tickled.

"How about this then? I'll spend less money and more time with you. Would you come back to me then?"

They met in a kiss as if it were somebody kissing his reflection. Lestrade looked him in the eye.

"You promise?"

"Yes."

Lestrade looked at him hopefully.

"Donut holes."

Mycroft shook his head.

"No donut holes. Rehab for you."

Lestrade grinned.

"Jerk. I love you!"

* * *

><p>Yeah, I thought it was time to end this story. Tell me what you think. I'm open for anything: nice comments, constructive criticism, flames, trolls. Bring them on!<p> 


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